Page 26 of Rescuing Sophia

“Get out.” I shove him, fury bubbling up. “You don’t get to tell me what I’m thinking or how I feel. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sophia, please—” He stumbles back, his face a mask of regret.

“No, don’t ‘Sophia’ me. You think I don’t know what I want? You think I don’t know how to make my own decisions? I know exactly what I’m doing. But you… You see me as some broken thing that can’t even think for herself.”

Blake’s shoulders sag, the weight of my words hitting him hard. “I don’t see you that way. I just… I can’t stay because?—”

“Because you’d be too rough. You said that already, but you never asked what I like. You could never be too rough with me, but I guess you’ll never know.” I point to the door. “I’ll find someone else.”

Blake’s expression hardens instantly, his remorse giving way to a flash of anger. His jaw tightens, and his eyes darken with a possessiveness I’ve never seen before.

“There will be no one else.”

“I think that’s up to me.”

“No other man is going to touch you, Sophia,” he growls, his words sharp and final. “No one. And that includes me.” His voice is rough, laced with frustration, as if it pains him to say it. “I won’t touch you because I refuse to exploit your vulnerability.

His anger flares again, but beneath it is a fierce protectiveness, a determination to keep me safe—even from himself.

“Exploit?” My anger flares. “It’s not about that—you just don’t want to be with someone who’s been used. As if I’m filthy, unworthy of your affection because of what was done to me. Is that what you see when you look at me? Something dirty and damaged?”

My voice trembles with the weight of my words, the accusation cutting deep. By holding back, he’s hurting me in the worst possible way, telling me I can’t think for myself—or worse, that he sees me as something broken beyond repair.

“No. Not at all.” He holds out a hand, pleading, but I’m too far gone.

“Get out.” Tears sting my eyes.

“Sophia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Blake’s expression softens, regret flashing across his face.

Too fucking late for that.

“Get. Out.” My voice is steel now.

When he doesn’t move, I shove him toward the door. Blake’s nearly twice my size, but he doesn’t resist. He backs up toward the door.

Opens it.

I shove one last time.

He nods once, then turns and leaves without another word. The moment the door closes behind him, I collapse onto the couch, sobs wracking my body.

I’m left alone with my frustration and hurt. How dare he assume he knows what’s best for me? But beneath the anger, a small voice whispers a painful truth: maybe he’s right.

But then my anger returns—white hot and inescapable.

How dare he?

How dare he assume he knows anything about me, about what I want?

I curl into myself, confusion and hurt swirling inside me.

If not Blake, I’ll be forced to move on to another.

EIGHT

Blake

The door slams behind me,the sound reverberating through the empty hallway and straight into my bones. I stand frozen, fists clenched at my sides, every muscle in my body coiled tight with tension. Sophia’s perfume still lingers on my clothes, a sweet, haunting reminder of how close we were just moments ago.

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